Bleach: Return From The Storm
by Beriadan-Twice
Summary: 800 years ago, a group of traitors escaped from the Gotei 13, and were never heard from again. But now, after Aizen and his cronies left Soul Society, there is a new threat, a group with murderous intend and that will not forgive...
1. Turn Back The Pendulum : Prologue

**Prologue**

The golden sunlight rose above the walls of the Old District, which had been derelict for some time now. It moved slowly, bathing the stones and cobbles in gold. Light bounced off silver blades, which were clashing together in the morning sun.

The air was filled with the sound of metal on metal, a struggle that had started nearly half a day before. A small group of black-clad Shinigami were surrounded by bodies of weaker men that lay in pools of their own blood that mingled with those they had died alongside. It was thinning out now, the group backed up against a wall and with a good number of their own taken down by the opposing force.

Slowly their leader pulled his long zanpaku-to from the head of a recently slain enemy, planting a foot on the young man's body to get some proper leverage on the blade. Blood flowed from the tip, splattering onto the floor. He was panting quite heavily, face battered and cut along the brow, sword arm shaking ever so slightly. Across his broad shoulders he wore a haori which was donned by a Shinigami that held a Captain seat, those who commanded their own division. Tanned and with a fair amount of facial hair, the Shinigami had green eyes which glittered gold in the sunlight. They represented how the group backed up against the wall all felt, as they were burning with a furious anger and indignation. This was no ordinary rabble of Shinigami; they were fighting for a cause they saw as right, and were dying to uphold it.

Now there was a ring around the Shinigami. The leader held his stance like a proper warrior, one foot forward and free hand close to the hilt but not actually gripping it. The others had all taken up stances of their own, some unique, some standard, but all tense and near to exhaustion. They all had their eyes on different enemies, but now there were only a handful of foot soldiers left, seated officers who were no way a match for the remaining group.

Standing away from the fight, a group of Shinigami watched calmly as the group against the wall fought on. There were eleven of them, each wearing a white haori with a different style and a marking on the back. Each marking had a number and, if someone were to be counting, they would notice the 3rd and 7th were currently absent, but the rest from 1 to 13 were all there. Save, of course, for the 8th, which was hidden under a vibrant pink haori, situated right at the back lounging on a piece of crumbled wall.

'Hmm… Don't you think it's time we just let them go, Yama-jii?'

He spoke with a long piece of straw between his lips, watched with disapproving eyes by a young girl wearing a knee-length skirt and wire-frame glasses. When there was no reply, save for the turning of a few heads, the man continued.

'They've been fighting all night… how about giving them some rest?'

A hunched figure at the front of the group didn't even bother to take his eyes from the fight, but spoke with a deep gravelly voice.

'No. They are traitors to the Gotei, and they will be eliminated. Shunsui, you know where your duties lie.'

The man addressed as Shunsui gave a small sigh, pulling a straw hat over his eyes.

'Yeah…'

As the group finished off the last one of the Shinigami that they had once fought alongside, the leader gave a little groan. Another man stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. This Shinigami also wore a Haori, shorter, sleeveless but with shoulders that jutted out further along the top. He had long black hair and piercing blue eyes.

'It's nearly over, Hiraharu. We've nearly won.'

Hiraharu shook his head, and now he lifted his head, looking past the bloodshed towards the group that seemed to far away.

'No, Kazuhira. There's still _him_…'

Then, as if lifted by these words, there was a strong breeze that blew through the group, nearly strong enough to blow some to the ground. In front of them stood eleven figures, each wearing a white haori and each with a different expression in their eyes, from anger to something akin to sadness. The lead figure leant on his cane, eyes almost staring right through Hiraharu's head.

'Ise Ryuurokurô Hiraharu. You have signed your own death sentence.'

The hunched figure then turned his head to the other Captain.

'And Ishikawa Kazuhira. You two cannot be forgiven for this. The others are replaceable… But two Captains… this is unacceptable!'

Hiraharu took a step forward, knees weak with exhaustion. His eyes watched the Captain-Commander carefully, the hunched figure who seemed to frail and old to hold such a position.

'Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni! This isn't right!'

The old man Shigekuni closed his eyes slowly.

'The time for talk is over, Ise Hiraharu. Draw your blade, or die like the dog you are.'

Hiraharu had sheathed his blade, hoping to gain an ounce of sympathy, but now he drew it as if it was burning a hole in his leg, holding it with two hands which shook furiously.

'It doesn't have to be this way! We-'

Hiraharu was cut off. There wasn't even a blur, but now the Captain-Commander's cane was covered with blood. Hiraharu watched, confused, as a huge gaping hole sat where the left half of his body should be from the chest down. Then, as realisation hit, he let out a small gasp and fell sideways to the floor. Blood splattered across the ground. Kazuhira watched in horror as his fellow Captain fell to the floor, feeling bile rise in his throat. Then he looked up, pleading in his eyes despite what had just happened.

'How can you kill him when you don't even know what really happened, Captain-Commander?!'

There was a manic tone in his voice now. Kazuhira took a shaking step forward.

'Please… Captain Kyōraku! Captain Shiba! Captain Kuchiki! You know us! Please let us explain why-'

The three Captains addressed, as well as the seven others, merely looked sternly on, save for Shunsui who gave a sad little smile. But Shigekuni interrupted Kazuhira's words before he could say anything else.

'The time for talking is over. Draw your blade as well, Kazuhira, or else you will die a less worthy death than your traitorous friend.'

Kazuhira shook, his sword shaking madly in his hands. There was a rush of air, and before he knew it…

A barrier stood in front of him. The Captain-Commander's eyes widened. A purple cloak fluttered in the wind. Long mauve hair fluttered in the wind. There was a gasp from the Captains.

'Asai Tokime!'

A grin spread on a rounded face. Tokime gave a glance back at Kazuhira.

'Hey. Sorry I'm a bit late.'

She looked down at Hiraharu, and shook her head, turning back to the Captain-Commander, arms folded. The old man gave a look of disgust.

'Great Kidou Chief, Asai Tokime. So you too…'

He lifted his cane.

'Unacceptable.'

Asai grinned wider, before spreading her hands.

'Kūkanten'i.'

Light filled the area, blinding and halting the Captain-Commander, who could only look on. It lasted for a good minute, a glorious white light which penetrated the retinas and seemed to send swirling images across the vision. Then, when it faded, the group had gone. Shunsui gave a smile, turning away from the scene.

'Looks like they got away after all, Yama-jii. Come on Ukitake…'

He left, walking along side a white-haired Captain. The old man could only look on with disgusted eyes. The first time a traitor had got under his fingers… But it would be the last. As the other Captains left, Shigekuni gave one glance to the bloody area before turning and disappearing from sight


	2. Making good relations, okay?

Chapter 1

The wind blew heavily through the traditional temple, threatening to throw it to the ground and rip its old roof from the crumbling supports. It was a cloudless day, the sun gently setting over the city of Karakura. The temple, which lay on a high hill on the very outskirts of the city, was thought to be unoccupied by the locals, who avoided it due to superstition. It was supposed to be haunted, and voices could be heard at night.

On this particular afternoon a figure could be seen, sitting with legs hanging out over the walkway that jutted out from the temple over the steep edge of the hill. A white robe fluttered in the strong gusts, brown hair ruffled by the wind. Green eyes watched the sunset, glittering gold in the light. As the sun slid behind the hill on the other side of the town, the figure stepped up, showing off a muscular looking male body under tatty black robes. A diamond could be made out on the back of the white sleeveless robe, with three horizontal lines inside.

With a few strides the man was inside the temple, closing a sliding door behind him. The room inside was empty, but the man seemed to know where he was going. Moving behind the large Buddha statue, the man pressed an unknown button. The back of the Buddha opened up, revealing a long flight of stairs. Without a second glance at the empty room, the man disappeared down the stairs into the dark.

'Hoi! That's foul play!'

Footsteps came down the stairs that led into a huge room, the ceiling looking so much like the night sky that it could have been in the outdoors.

'Hah! Like ya know what that is! C'mon, you ain't holdin' back, are ya?'

The man stopped as soon as he could see the scene, beginning a slow walk to ground level. There was a small group dotted around, some sitting on rocks and others standing around. The man's green eyes focused on two small figures that were fighting in the middle of a ring of rocks.

As he came into the light that was stronger where the group was, heads turned. The atmosphere became tense suddenly, and the two fighters stopped mid-lunge, one giving a little bow and sheathing a short katana.

'Ise-sama.'

The one who bowed, a short, young-loooking girl wearing a red tanktop and black cargo pants, turned away as she said that, hopping onto a tall rock beside a huge figure who was sitting on the same level but had his feet planted on the ground. The other gave a shrug. He was short like the girl, skinny and young-looking as well. Shaved grey hair topped his head save for a long fringe that sat over his piercing blue eyes. With a flick of his head he simply clenched his right hand, which was silver and made of metal, clinking as he moved to the edge of the ring.

'Hiraharu! Where did you go?'

A maroon haired woman moved to Hiraharu, taking his hand and brushing her lips against his. She was beautiful with golden eyes, smooth skin and a lace corset with a knee-length black skirt. Hiraharu gave her a brief smile before sliding his hand out of hers and moving to another white-robe wearing man, who gave him a small smile. Hiraharu sat back, and the air seemed to relax slightly. The man he was next to gave him a nudge.

'You missed the action, Hiraharu.'

The ex-Captain gave the man a sideways glance.

'That so, Kazuhira? You missed a good sunset.'

The conversation seemed to end, and the metal-handed young boy stepped back into the ring hopefully.

'C'mon, Zutilly.'

He addressed the young girl who he had been sparring with before, but she shook her head.

'Naa. I'm done for tonight. Find someone else, Anakai.'

The young boy, Anakai, gave a snarl in annoyance, Zutilly merely smiled.

'Anyway, you look like you're tired after I beat your ass that many times, even with all that foul play.'

She brought her knees up to her chest, watching the boy with an increasing amusement. Anakai merely flipped her off and sat back down. The rest of the group lapsed into silence now. Hiraharu knew his presence stopped the others from feeling comfortable. There were only four members of the group that had escaped the grasp of the Gotei Thirteen all those years ago. Hiraharu looked over at Kazuhira and the maroon-haired woman, Asai Tokime, who had been the Great Kidou Chief and had made it possible for the two Captains and the rest to escape. There was only twelve of them when they found the abandoned temple, and the years had taken their toll. As well as the three Captain-class Shinigami, there was also a small, fat-looking boy who seemed to be the typical Otaku boy that could be found in any Japanese school. Short hair and with glasses that didn't allow his eyes to be seen, he wore a plain white shirt, a tight waistcoat and pinstripe trousers, rather unfitting for a boy of his figure. But Hiraharu knew the boy more than the others; he had been his vice-captain for a few years before being promoted to another division.

The others had joined after they had made their headquarters the temple. The two siblings, Zutilly the small tomboyish girl and her brother Anzai, a towering man with dark skin like his sister but with long, blond dreadlocks, had joined soon after they had escaped Soul Society. The young wild looking boy called Anakai was quite a recent edition and was much too violent for Hiraharu's taste. But the group was not going to be prejudiced, at least not while Hiraharu had a say in it. Any refugee that was running from the Gotei 13 was welcome, almost like a safe-house. At least, that's what he told Tokime and Kazuhira whenever they asked for his reasons…

But now he simply watched as one of the other members stepped in against Anakai, giving a small grin that he knew Kazuhira would be able to see. For now, he'd put his friends mind at rest.


	3. The Supression of Darkness

Chapter 2

The sun was blocked behind a thin layer of cloud, drifting lazily and uncaring over Soul Society. A strong wind had set in, bringing in condensed water above the buildings of the Seretei. There was little point in being outside on such a cold evening, aside from hard labour of course.

Such a phrase, however, would be discounted in one particular individual's mind, a figure that lay on a tiled roof with a straw hat laying to shade his eyes for sunlight that he wished would break through already. A flowery pink haori lay under him, cushioning his shoulder blades slightly from the harsh orange tiles.

'Nanao-chaaan.'

A wry smile crossed the bearded jaw, belonging, of course, to Kyōraku Shunsui. He lazed on the roof, not bothering to move more than a sandaled foot which rested across the other leg. Arms were folded behind his head, resting on a untidy mass of black hair, tied into a long ponytail by a rather expensive flower hairpin.

'Nanao-chaaaaaan…'

There was a swift kick that came into Shunsui's side, causing a long thin piece of grass to fly out of the man's mouth.

'Shut it! I was here all along, you could have just looked up!'

Shunsui lifted his straw hat, looking up at a young-looking girl that wore stern eyes behind thin rimmed glasses under a head of neat, pinned back charcoal hair. She pressed her glasses further up her nose, eyeing her Captain with a wary eye. Shunsui smiled back with an almost lecherous expression.

'Nanao-chan, how long has it been since you came with me for a drink with Rangiku-chan?'

Nanao sniffed, looking down at Shunsui with evil eyes.

'Not long enough, you booze-monkey. I told you not to go drinking yourself into a stupor like last time. Besides…'

She looked away, cradling a book in her eyes while her gaze moved across the Seretei's darkening area.

'Besides… Matsumoto-chan is probably busy helping Hitsuugaya-Taichou recuperate. You know…'

Shunsui didn't need her to finish. After the incident with Aizen and the other traitors a week or so ago, the Captains had been hard at work doing what each Captain did best. Shunsui gave a light sigh, pulling the straw hat over his eyes again.

'Oh well… I'll just have to spend some more time with my Nanao-chan, I guess.'

* * *

Nanao gave him a glare, but sat down next to him, watching the sun set behind the clouds without another word.

'Hisagi-kun!'

A dark haired man looked up from a pile of reports and papers that straddled his desk. He stood up, thin eyes looking quite exhausted. The man moved to the window, his hand scratching absently at three long scars that ran vertically over one eye. Then he looked down from his second floor window.

'Aah- Matsumoto! What is it?'

A long golden-haired woman stood below, holding up a bottle of sake in one hand and cupping the other to her mouth.

'I was wondering if you want to come for a drink with me and Kira-kun!'

Behind her, a lanky blond Shinigami stood, looking slightly uncomfortable. Hisagi could guess why; he hadn't been the worse one effected by the exit of the three traitorous captains.

'Sorry, Matsumoto. I've got a mountain of work to do now that my Taichou is gone.'

Matsumoto pouted, looking back at Kira and then at Hisagi again.

'Aww.. All right, I guess. We'll go see if Renji wants to join us, huh, Kira-kun?'

She turned and wandered off into the night. Kira, long blond hair fallen over one of his eyes, looked up at Hisagi, giving him a slightly forlorn look, before following the blond. Hisagi turned away, feeling slightly odd. He'd always had a thing for Matsumoto, but then again most guys in Soul Society had. Hisagi's crush wasn't just about the large boobs or long, luscious golden hair; he enjoyed her company and personality, and she seemed to like him, anyway. Hisagi's eyes fell on the pile of paper, and he groaned.

'Damn…'

* * *

'HOOOOOAAAAH!'

The clash of steel could be heard from the Sixth division headquarters. Swords sparked in the gloom as two figures met, clashed blades and disappeared.

'Come on, Taichou!'

The speaker was a muscular looking man, red hair tied in a spiked ponytail and face covered with black pointed tattoos. He grinned, gripping a sword that looked like a multi-spiked pick. With another roar he swung it, and the blade extended, flying at the other figure, who stood calmly until the final second, where he brought his sword up, metal clashing again.

'You're too slow, Renji. I can see right through your attacks.'

The man was tall with long black hair, tied withkenseikan, showing he was a noble. A white scarf fluttered in the wind, a scarf worn only by the heads of the Kuchiki clan.

He was about to counter when there was the shout of voices. Renji looked up.

'Matsumoto! Kira!'

Matsumoto wandered in to the large garden in the center of the sixth division headquarters, sake bottle still in hand.

'Aaauu! So big! Hitsugaya Taichou would never let us have something like this! Oh, sorry Kuchiki-Taichou!'

Matsumoto bowed hurridly to Kuchiki Byakuya, who merely turned away. She pouted at his back, before turning to Renji, shaking the sake.

'Drink?'

Renji looked over at his Captain, who nodded one. He grinned.

'Sure thing, Matsumoto!'

When the three Shinigami had gone, Byakuya sheathed his sword and went inside the division. He stirred a cooling cup of green tea idly, watching the liquid swirl around and around. Byakuya didn't know what annoyed him more: the uninvited intrusion by Matsumoto Rangiku and Izuru Kira, or the fact they hadn't even invited him…

* * *

The noise of singing was clear as three figures passed the Seventh division headquarters. It was dark now, yet the lights were still on. As the voices faded, Captain Komamura Sajin sighed. His golden eyes were on his sword, which lay across the table. Nearby, Iba sat in a corner, snoring quietly. It had been a long day, and Komamura didn't blame the black-haired man. He had been so exhausted that his glasses had slipped off and Iba hadn't even noticed. They now sat on Komamura's desk, next to Tenken, his blade.

'Will a time come, Tenken? Will we have to fight the one we struggled to protect? Tousen…'

He gave a sigh from between canine jaws, golden-brown fur blowing in a cool breeze from an open window.

'Of course not.. Tousen knows the difference between killing and sparing a life… I just hope he sees sense soon…'

With a scrape of wood Komamura stood up, closing the window and blowing out the lamp that lit the dim room. Iba slept on in the gloom as his Captain disappeared into the night.

* * *

'I'm home!'

The door slid open, letting the cold night air in. A tall, white haired man stepped through, three bags of food slung over his arms.

'Oni-san!'

There was a clatter of small feet, and a young girl flung herself around the man. He laughed, patting her on the head. Others came in, another girl and five other boys. Each had different qualities of the man's face, but their hair was black. The other girl, an older and more beautiful looking young woman with hazel eyes, smiled.

'Ukitake Jushiro, what kept you so long?'

Jushiro merely laughed, handing the bags to the other men who took them through.

'Sorry, nii-sama, but you know how it is. Tuck in, there's enough for the week!'

This was Ukitake Jushiro, one of the oldest Captains in the Gotei. Shocked by a deadly lung virus, his hair had been bleached white and his skin was often sickly coloured. But he had people to protect and look after, his family of seven who depended on him. Luckily for him that the Captain-Commander, Yamamoto Genryūsai, knew of his situation, and each month he received a little extra than the other Captains. Jushiro was very thankful of the old man's help, and had felt guilty about having to cross swords. It had even effected his dreams, and he often woke in a sweat, the image of fire and smoke imprinted in his minds eye…

'Oh wow! Ohagi!'

Jushiro smiled happily, following his brothers and sisters into the kitchen, sliding the door behind him.

* * *

Two figures could be made out in a large clearing of the forest beside Execution Hill. They were lying in the shadows, bodies close and arms entwined. A captains robe hung on a tree branch above them, and a pair of katana lay across each other by them.

'Yoruichi-sama…'

* * *

In a poorly lit laboratory, a man was hard at work.

'Damn that Quincy boy! I enjoyed that mask… Oh well, it can't be helped.'

There was movement, before the figure turned into the light, revealing a white face covered with black lines and framed by a golden faceguard-like crown, from where two blue lengths of hair shot out, curling round the face like rams horns.

'How tedious… A man shouldn't have to replace his face this much!'

He twirled a long blue fingernail in aggravation, looking over at the monitor banks that showed three figures, bathed in yellow light, rising into the sky.

'Tch.. asking me to do something as simple as put up a barrier against these three. A waste of my time!'

Kurotsuchi Mayuri gave a disgruntled sigh, turning away and striding into the gloom to continue his work.

* * *

'Ken-chan!'

The last bell dropped into a clay bowl, with a jingle that rang around the room. A giant of a man sat there, hair now flar on his head and rolling down his back.

'What is it, Yachiru?'

He spoke with annoyance as he looked at a sallow face in the mirror. Behind him he could make out a small, pink haired girl, jumping around the room.

'How are you feeling, Ken-chan?'

Kenpachi Zaraki, the Captain of the Zaraki Corps (a.k.a. the Eleventh Squad), gave an annoyed grunt.

'I told ya, I'm fine!'

Yachiru, the little pink haired girl, giggled.

'Good! Come on Ken-chan! You gotta get some sleep before tomorrow!'

Kenpachi sighed. Tomorrow was nothing special, like the day before, the day after and every day… Now if he could fight Ichigo again tomorrow, it would be worth sleeping for.

'Fine fine… Get yer ass outta here.'

Yachiru giggled and bounced from the door into the gloom of the other room. Kenpachi sighed, settling down for another sleepless night.

* * *

'Matsumoto?!'

The annoyed voice could be heard around the Tenth division, but there was no answer. Hitsugaya Toshiro looked at the pile of paper on his vice-captain's desk.

'Tch… That stupid woman. I'll have to do her work again if she's gone out boozing…'

He sighed, picking up a pen and starting work on the paper before he had even taken a seat. Hitsugaya hadn't noticed the figure sleeping on the couch; a young looking girl who gripped a long sword with a flower-shaped guard. Hinamori Momo had waited for Matsumoto as she wanted to talk, and had simly fallen asleep. When Hitsugaya finally noticed her, he draped his haori over her sleeping form and returned to Matsumoto's work.

* * *

The moon rose above Seretei, doing what the sun could not and breaking the clouds apart. For now, it seemed peaceful, quiet. After a long period of hassle and fighting, the Shinigami could now fall into peace.

Or so they thought.


	4. INTRUDERZ

It was dark now. A small shoten shop, located down some back alley far from the centre of Karakura, stood dimly lit by lights from indoors. A long shadow was cast off of a silhouette at the door, standing with smoke trailing from between smiling lips.

'What a beautiful night.'

The man shifted, sliding a green and white striped hat further up his head, eyes cast up to the starry night. A short green robe rustled as he did so as well, a diamond print along the bottom mimicking that of a Gotei Captain.

Urahara Kisuke coughed gently, taking another drag of the cigarette. Smoke trailed up into the open air. Today was quiet.

Then there was a shuffle not too far off. Kisuke looked up, a surprised look on his face. Three shadows were walking towards him. Two wore white coats all too familiar to the shop-keeper.

'My, my… What do Captains of the Gotei have to do with me on this night?'

There was the sound of steel. Kisuke's eyes widened.

Blood splattered on the floor of the shop. There was a shuffling, the sound of wooden clogs being dragged along, attached to the inanimate body that was defiantly not walking.

A face was illuminated for a second. Hiraharu's grin was wider than it had been for eight hundred years.

* * *

'Mayuri-sama..'

Rather tartly the blue haired Captain looked up at his daughter, balling his fists up.

'You idiot! I told you not come in here when I was working!'

Nemu's face connected with a pale back-hand, sending her into the wall behind. She stood up, shaking. Mayuri's face was terrible, cast by shadow. His new mask was almost complete, but this bumbling idiot had cost her valuable seconds.

'What do you have to say? It better be good, or I'll take you apart again!'

She coughed, blood stroking her chin, handing Mayuri a slip of paper. The man read it, and his eyes glimmered golden.

'Ooh? How interesting… Kisuke, what are you planning?'

There was a drawn out grin from the man, showing rows of shimmering teeth.

* * *

Then something happened. The whole of Soul Society might have felt it, but Ukitake had no time to think on that as it woke him and, as it sounded, the rest of his family up. Quickly he dressed, donning his Captain's robe as he picked up Sogyo no Kotowari and slid it into his obi sash.

'Damn it! What on earth is this reiatsu?'

It was the same feeling as when Kurosaki Ichigo and his comrades had invaded. Were there more Ryoka, this soon after? Ukitake's mind raced. Was Urahara Kisuke behind this again?

'Captain!'

Kotsubaki Sentaro and Kotetsu Kiyone appeared in front of him as Ukitake slammed open the door to his home, looking as worried as he was. Ukitake nodded to both, looking away at where the source was coming from.

'Sentaro. Kiyone. Let's go…'

They both nodded back, shouting louder than Ukitake thought necessary.

'YES SIR!'

* * *

The fire burnt high into the sky. Hiraharu looked at it with distaste as the young grey-haired boy, Anakai, danced with glee, watching the flames lick the other buildings around. They had arrived in the centre of one of the districts, not far from the Shinigami's home. Fire had erupted and Anakai had aggrivated it, watching with glee as the buildings around them burnt.

But Hiraharu's eyes were torn from the scene, looking on towards the towering white pillar that marked Seretei's centre. He smiled. At his side were Kazuhira and Asai, looking serious in every aspect but the look in their eyes. Hiraharu could tell they weren't sure about this whole thing, but he was going to have his revenge.

Behind him, the large group fanned out. The first enemy would come, and Hiraharu would cut them down. He would cut them all down, bathing Seretei in the blood of the very people he used to fight for. The smile widened.

'Okay… let's go.'


End file.
